Reality Is
by AshleytheWolfe
Summary: The final battle took more than one woman could stand. Was going to be a multi-chapter fic, but my muse ran out on me.
1. Chapter 1

She stood in the window, the wind hopeless in its attempt to dry the tears that streamed unchecked down her face; the jagged lines of salt remained as a testament to its unseen, unwanted, and ignored efforts. The world as she had known it was ended, lost in the sands of time, doomed to remain only as a bitter-sweet memory. The fallen were to be laid to rest in the hours before sunset, nothing but a marker defaced by a clique to serve as a reminder: "Gone, but not forgotten", "Will be sorely missed", "A loss to mark generations", "Gone too soon", and so on. Heroes all, it will be said at the ceremony, bits and pieces of the deeds of the dead and the residual happiness will slowly evaporate into the pits of despair. At least, it would in her case.

Her sobs clogged her throat, choking her in a fashion she was want to continue; the loss of air, the possible loss of life, all a dream in her current state. One she would give almost anything to fulfill. Survivor's guilt she heard them whispering, the shock of it all is wearing off; she will be able to cope after a time. That talked around her as though they knew what she was going through, as though they WERE her. What do they know? The only one with even and INCLING was the lone red-haired girl who had long since achieved her goal of aversion.

They had done it. Completed the goal shared by generations, saved the entire wizarding world from the one who would have destroyed their society and killed over half of their population… and every last muggle in existence. What was the cost? The whole of society mourned the loss of Dumbledore, but too few cried for the house elf, many more would pretend grief at the death of two-thirds of the Golden Trio, and there was only one left feel the absence of the two muggle dentists whose only folly was to birth the brightest witch of recent memory. The lone survivor, Hermione Granger.

All of the reading, all of the research, all of the sacrifice for nothing. It may have helped save the wizarding society, preserve the flawed and ultimately corrupt system of government; but it had not saved her best-friend and it had not saved the one person she felt she could spend the rest of her life with. She had no intention of going to the service, her grief was her own and not to be put on display.

She left the building, moving hurriedly with no thought to stealth and aparated to the lake where the sword had been gifted Harry. She walked on water until she was reached the very middle and waited until the darkness had fully set in. She lifted both her face and her wand to the sky whispering a spell under her breath, letting the magic that had gone wild inside her flow off into the atmosphere. A trio of lights shone brightly far off in the heavens, her permanent tribute to those she loved that were forever lost to her.

She lowered her wand, capturing the sight in her mind as she slowly breathed out and closed her eyes before plummeting into the cool watery depths below her. She made no attempt to rise to the surface… the one thought that flowed through her mind as the blackness engulfed her was 'finally'.


	2. Chapter 2

Her gnarled fingers worked the spindle deftly, feeling the thread of life flow gently; its indefinable beauty a stark contrast to the appearance of those who controlled it. She had felt a new strength in the thread as of late, an event that had not occurred in many generations, many lives that had been spun by her. Clotho knew that the fates, she and her sisters, were going to have a fun time of it.

Lechesis noticed it as well as she measured and marked each section of the thread. There were many who thought that she determined the life span of each individual… in reality she gave each lifetime the same potential; it was Atropos who would ultimately cut the thread and send the soul to the underworld where Hades would decide which to keep and which to cast into the pit of souls.

"There is a time coming of which we might take interest dearest sisters." Lechesis stated, her hands never stopping there movement, the measuring and marking as constant as the thread itself. Atropos had been snipping without care or interest as she had for so very long a time. A time that moved as fast or as slow as they wanted, knowing that no matter the speed they would be there for all eternity. She looked over at the thread, noting that the creation of it was slowing.

"There will be a war. One that the Gods themselves will have wished to have a part in," Said Clotho who knew the thread slowed only when the birth of new life did.

"Then let us have a bit of fun with it." Atropos replied as she sent her shears flying into the pile of measured thread. It wouldn't have done to have severed a life before marked, to do so could throw the essence of time into a chaos so profound that nothing could be as it was. Doing so had never been an option.

She released the end of the thread she had been holding and went to retrieve her tool. She smiled as she lifted the section between her blades and ran her fingers over the lifetimes, determining the hardships and outcomes of it through slight maneuverings, nicks, hitched and abrasions. Just as she was about to let the thread drop and idea like which she had never had came to her. She went to a particular section, having thought to herself that this one life would be extraordinary as there was a faint glow like that of the Goddess Athena, within it she split a section in two.

"This life will be worth watching… more so than all the others." She said and went back to her cutting. She would take interest in each life she was ending and how in the mean time, looking forward all the while to the choice, perhaps the only real choice she had given any of the, that one soul would have to make.

**

She can into awareness slowly, reluctantly. The darkness had been so welcome, yearned for, that even her deepest self refused the possibility of another outcome.

The softness of the surface registered first, the burning of her lungs and heaviness of her head followed shortly. Her mind knew that there would be a great deal of pain and discomfort, more so than before the lake…

The lake.

Her eyes flew open and she jerked into sitting position. She blinked rapidly at the light, her eyes adjusting slowly and coughed painfully at the feeling of excess fluid in her lungs. Her sinus were on fire, her head being split ever so slowly and methodically down the middle with sharp points digging in on all sides to help it a long; never in her life had she wished for oblivion so vehemently.

"Finally awake I see, Granger" came a voice she had never wanted to hear again. One of many.

"Malfoy." She croaked, the pain multiplying ten-fold. She lowered herself slowly onto her back, caring more for the possibility of comfort than any impression of vulnerability.

A faint noise registered, in her mind it could have been from disgust or annoyance; neither of which would have surprised her overmuch considering the source. "Breath this in."

A burst of slightly citrus smelling powder hit her face just as she was taking a breath to respond in an extremely negative fashion. She coughed but felt the burning ease and accepted what felt like a bottle that was placed in her hand. "It's for the pain." She nodded and did her best to swallow as much as quickly as possible.

Her eyelids became heavier seemingly at the same rate of the pain lessening. As the fog began to settle comfortably over her mind she heard an echo of her voice ask "why are you doing this?" His reply seemed so much farther away than she thought.

"No matter how bad of a person you may believe me to be, even I cannot stand by and let someone die if there is any possible way for me to stop it."

She made a slight noise of assent, if one wanted to call it that. "Honestly Granger, I never would have thought you were such a coward."

"Me either…" she whispered and slipped quietly into sleep.

Draco stood there a while longer, watching each breath she took intently. The powder had been to absorb what fluid she hadn't coughed up once he had resuscitated her, so as not to risk inflammation or infection; either of which could have rendered all of his effort useless. He collapsed into the chair he had been occupying from the moment he had placed her in the bed.

He had long since stopped asking himself why he had followed her. Maybe a part of him had known, maybe a part of him had wanted to see, and maybe, just maybe, a part of him knew and could not fathom such a pointless loss. His purpose, subconscious or otherwise, was no longer of import. What mattered now the bushy haired know-it-all who still had a lifetime ahead; he had no intention of examining his motivations too closely at this stage, thinking himself invested as he had saved her life after all. It would be such a shame for her to waste it now.


End file.
